to the mansions of rest
by manic pixie nightmare girl
Summary: In which Minerva is dying, and Poppy finds a way to make things better.


**Assignment 3**

**Muggle Music, task #4: Write about leaving somewhere **

**Word Count: 793 words**

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Poppy sat across from Minerva. Looking at her old friend made her heart ache; she couldn't remember ever feeling so helpless. "Can I get you anything, Minnie?" she asked, offering the older woman a shaky smile.

Minerva opened her cloudy eyes. "I grow tired of being here," she said, weakly lifting her nearly-skeletal arm before dropping it once again.

Poppy nodded. She thought about that very thing time and time again. Minerva was made for glorious things, not a quiet, easy death in St. Mungo's. Though it was peaceful, which was good on her old heart, the sterile hospital and its too-white walls must have felt like a prison to Minerva.

"What can I do?" Poppy asked, slender fingers anxiously tugging at her greying hair. "There must be something."

It was useless, and Poppy hated it. What was the point in being a Healer if she couldn't save her best friend? All she was able to do for the past three months was watch her beloved Minerva waste away.

Minerva reached up again, her breathing unsteady. It was hard to imagine that she was so weak that even a simple gesture caused her pain. Still, there was a fire in her green eyes. She was determined.

Her palm rested on Poppy's arm, fingers slowly and softly wrapping around the younger woman's wrist. "Home," she said. "I want to go home."

Poppy considered for a moment. The Healers would never allow it, of course. Given her weakening condition, Minerva would never be allowed to leave.

She knew she should say no, but she couldn't. After everything they've been through, how could she be cruel and deny Minerva anything? With a sigh, she nodded. It wouldn't be easy, but it wouldn't exactly be impossible. After all, it was St. Mungo's, not Azkban, that she was planning to break her friend out of.

"Okay," she said. "Let's get you home."

X.

This was where Minerva had grown up. Poppy looked around, smiling at the quaint farmland that surrounded them. It was so lush and green, and she could smell the earthy scent of freshly tilled soil. It was so much different from London; it was clean and heavenly, and Poppy wanted nothing more than to stay here forever.

"Our house…" Minerva coughed violently, her frail body shaking from the force. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand before extending her index finger and pointing to a place that was overrun with weeds. "Our was there."

"It must have been lovely," Poppy said, because how could anything here be anything but lovely? The countryside was so picturesque and perfect, and it was easy to understand why Minerva wanted to leave the hospital and come here.

"It was simple," Minerva said, and she leaned closer to Poppy, gripping her arm for support. "I loved it here."

Poppy nodded, unsure of what to say. She checked her pocket watch, frowning. They would need to get back to St. Mungo's soon. No doubt, the Healers realized Minerva was gone. She wondered if anyone would look for her, or if they knew the old woman was too stubborn for her own good. If anyone dared to pursue her, Minerva would probably give them a firm but loving scolding and send them on their way.

"I just wanted to see it one last time," Minerva said quietly. "I fell in love down the road. Lovely lad. Dougal…"

Poppy had heard the story plenty of times before, but she didn't mind. There was something adorable about picturing a young Minerva, completely smitten with the Muggle farmer. She wondered what it might have been like if things had worked out. Would Minerva still be the same fiery woman that Poppy knew and loved?

"We should go," Poppy suggested, squeezing Minerva's hand gently. "They'll be missing you, I'm sure."

Minerva shook her head. Her thin lips quivered, and Poppy could see the tears dotting her lashes. "One night," she pleaded. "There's an inn in town. Just one night, Poppy."

And, once again, Poppy couldn't say no.

X.

Maybe she shouldn't have been surprised when Minerva was cold and stiff the next morning. Sometimes, people could tell when they were about to die. Poppy thought that maybe Minerva could feel it, and that was what made her want to escape so badly.

"I'm glad I could get you out," Poppy said, though Minerva couldn't hear her. She sniffled and wiped her eyes with a trembling hand.

It was a loss Poppy would never be able to recover from, but there was a strange happiness beneath it all. In the end, Minerva had been free to face death on her own terms. Poppy suspected that was all the older woman could have asked for.

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**A/N: In case it wasn't clear, the prompt was used first with leaving the hospital, then again with Minerva leaving the world.**


End file.
